


heartsigh

by happycakeycake



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Barebacking, Cuddling to Fucking, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Porn, Riding, Shower Sex, Some Plot, cheesy hopeless romance, then fucking to cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happycakeycake/pseuds/happycakeycake
Summary: Even after God-knows-how-many-years, Hoseok’s alpha hindbrain is still completely inadequate in regards to the abstract illicitness of heat. Still, when it comes time each month it’s always his mate’s soft smile that demands the best from him.After all, if there’s ever been something he’s good at, it’s taking care of others.





	heartsigh

**Author's Note:**

> *kazoos careless whisper* hey guys happy late new year's :)
> 
> so instead of updating any chaptered works here i am with a wonheon abo heat fic. dug it up out of my docs from last year's winter season and decided to complete it - which is why please ignore a bit of the cringe from the first section as i didn't feel like completely rewriting all of it. boy has my writing style changed. anyway thank you for reading and enjoy :)
> 
> songs for mood: "just the two of us" and "under the street lamps" AOA, "she's a baby" zico

It’s seven in the afternoon, and Hoseok is pushing through his last set, exerting every last ounce of strength to power through the burning fire in his muscles that scream at him to just finish already. He only grins in satisfaction, used to the raw physicality of exercise, the slip of sweat over his palms and of course, the final reward of a hot shower after a good workout.

A good workout that he’s about to finish in

3

2

1

And done!

The weighted bar clanks loudly against the floor as he drops it in exhausted victory, but he can’t bring himself to care. There’s something better than all of this, better than the soreness in his abs, the tense spasming of his muscles, and even the cloying warmth of the shower: finishing his workout means he can go home to his mate.

Just the thought of said mate, probably all curled up in a warm and cozy lump on their couch, beats any pleasures Hoseok could ever gain from working out. Suddenly, the cooling sweat on his back makes him shiver, and even the awaiting shower seems like a chore in the face of what it’s keeping him away from.

Namely, his lovely mate bathed in a soft halo of warmth, waiting for him to come back home.

He’s suddenly rushing through his shower, shampooing and soaping himself up with little to no care of how thorough his cleaning actually is. The water is too cold, but Hoseok isn’t about to wait another ten minutes under the meager spray just for it to reach a barely comfortable temperature when he could just go home and bask in the sweet embrace of his mate instead. The usually soothing perfume of his honey-lemon soap bar stings offensively against his senses today, and it suddenly feels too artificial - at least compared to the real thing.

He slows dazedly in his scrubbing, his mind lost as a faint whisper of honey and vanilla unfurls from his memory in a fluttering brush of sunshine. Hoseok blinks, foamy water stinging his eyes as the warm scent fades back into the stale wetness of the shower tiles. He sighs, the dim sound of it bouncing between falling droplets and landing too loudly at his feet, and returns to washing out the remnants of vague sweetness from his hair with clinical disinterest. There’s a reason why most of his products contain the word “honey” in them, and it’s not because he has an over-enthusiastic appreciation for bees. If he could bottle up the way his mate smelled during the most frantic point in heat, Hoseok would probably pay all of his life savings to do it.

Yeah, no he would  _definitely_ do it.

The water isn’t getting any warmer and he decidedly turns the handle, closing off the spray with a rusty _creak_ and ending his rushed shower. The hard tiles bite harshly against the soles of his feet, and he heads towards his locker on a waddling combination of curled toes and tense heels. He pulls on a weathered hoodie and ripped jeans, both smelling faintly of downy laundry detergent and a mix of his own musk with the wafting scent of his mate. It’s not appropriate, but he’s very much tempted to curl up in a ball and take a nice long nap wrapped up in the warmth of _home_ and _mate_ , instead of putting on shoes and walking out the door on two legs like an actually productive member of society.

Hoseok sighs in defeat and forces himself to stop nosing into the hoodie like some young, unrestrained, idiot alpha who has no idea what public decency is. His mother had taught him better than that and more importantly, his mate deserves better as well. He guiltily pulls on a clean pair of socks and shoves his feet into scuffed vans, determined not to act like such a creep in the future, and hastily grabs everything out of his locker before slamming it shut with a _bang_.

Kihyun waves lethargically to him on the way out from the reception desk, and Hoseok rushes to return a farewell greeting. “Bye, Kihyunnie!” he shouts as he speed-walks towards the door, and the pink-haired omega shrilly yells back, “Hey, don’t forget to clock out idiot!”

Hoseok doesn’t even slow down or turn around as he asks, “Can you sign me out, please, I’ll owe you one forever!” As mean as Kihyun acts, Hoseok knows the younger man won’t refuse his desperate request, and he tacks on a meager “thanks!” before running out the front door without another thought on the matter.

After all, he has something far more important to attend to than signing out of work.

“You-” the omega screams after his retreating back, “Get your ass back here and clock out yourself!” It’s no use though because Shin Hoseok _fucking_ dares to ignore him and continues running out of the gym without a care in the world.

Of course, he’s so _amazingly_ kind and _generous_ that he’ll still voluntarily sign the other man out, but not without swearing him out beneath his breath the entire time. When Hoseok gets back Kihyun is immediately demanding him to cover a whole month of his shifts, especially the 5:30 morning ones.

The tiny machine clicks as he inputs Hoseok’s card, and he grudgingly signs the older man out with only the thought of sleeping in until 7 for an entire month straight on his mind.

 

~

 

Hoseok is sure he’s _fucked up_ at this point.

The pharmacy he’s picking his order up from just _happens_ to be closing early today and as the responsible adult he totally is, he never thought to look up the store’s hours beforehand. Usually, his mate orders and picks up his own packages (and on time too), but Hoseok had practically begged the other to leave it to him, to let him take care of it this time. He had wanted to prove himself as responsible and reliable, an alpha that could be depended on at all times.

Well, what with the rapid ticking of his watch and the hurried slap of his shoes against the pavement, that plan is quickly going down the drain. Of course, knowing his mate, he’d only smile so easily, so sweetly and tell him “i’ll just pick it up tomorrow, okay?” and let Hoseok off the hook without any sign of displeasure or anger.

But the alpha in him can’t accept that, partly because of his own pride, but really for letting his loved one down, because he had promised, even _sworn_ on his heart and linked their pinkies together for good measure, that he could be trusted to get it done.

His phone’s blue glare tells him he has exactly 8 minutes to get the package and go, and he wheezes, finally stumbling into the store with a _clang_ of festive holiday bells. For someone who exercises for a living, he’s terribly out of breath right now - maybe he should consider adding more cardio to his daily training?

That doesn’t matter now, he tells himself. In the time that it took for him to catch his breath, the clock’s already gone down to 6 minutes! That’s two minutes wasted, two minutes where he could’ve gotten into line, picked up his order, and left for home and, by proxy, for his mate.

Thankfully, there are only two other people (fellow slackers) at the counter, and he quickly situates himself behind them in line. He digs through his phone’s photo album, past the numerous pictures of his mate, hoping to find a screenshot of the confirmation receipt for the order somewhere in between an instagram selfie and a sneaky morning shot. Hoseok finally discovers it attached in a text message along with a tiny bee emoji and the words _don’t forget!_ sent to him just today. He can’t stop himself from smacking a kiss against the flat screen because _thank God_ at least one of them knows how to be responsible ahead of time.

The person in front of him finally moves out of line, and he’s faced with the droopy-eyed expression of a tired cashier. In a monotone voice, she drones out her memorized greeting while blatantly looking past Hoseok’s head to the clock behind him. “Welcome to the 24 Power pharmacy: all orders made online require a printed or digital receipt and legal identification. What can I help you with today, sir?”

Hoseok proudly brings out the receipt on his phone along with his _very_ handsome government-issued ID that states, along with basic things like height, weight, blood-type, his orientation and his official bond mate. The cashier looks over it with a dull scanning glance, eyes flickering up and down repeatedly as she confirms the nervously grinning man’s identity. The hair’s a bit different, but the computer registers him as the legal mate of the omega who pre-ordered the package, so she returns the card and heads to the back to search for the correct order.

Hoseok waits with a jumping stomach as the clock continually ticks down, and the cashier rummages around back for whatever it is that his mate ordered, seemingly with no haste at all. She finally finds what it is and comes back with a small white box labeled with a simple Ω looped on top.

“Alright, you’re here to pick up the Customized Omega Care Package with the extra heat gummies in Coffee right?” she prompts, reciting the details mechanically off the screen. Hoseok honestly has no idea whether that’s the right thing or not, but his mate loves coffee, so he confidently answers “yes!” before reaching for the box. The cashier deftly avoids his eager hands and drags the care package away from him, looking around for a plastic bag instead.

She fishes one out from under the counter and slowly starts bagging the box, but at Hoseok’s frantic flailing, she finally shows a semblance of emotion and hands it over with a flat “enjoy” and a thin smile. The alpha grabs it with frantic urgency, but his mother’s chiding voice echoes in his mind ( _manners young man!)_ , so he quickly bows his head to the cashier in thanks before making his way out of there.

Said cashier watches the other’s back as he speeds out of the store, and she giggles to herself in amusement. It’s been a long day, but the last few minutes have provided her with the most amusement she’s had all week.

She hopes that, whoever that alpha was, heat week will go well for him and his mate.

 

~

 

Hoseok usually loves the fact that his apartment is a fifteen-minute walk from his workplace; it’s good for exercise, even better for the environment, and especially enjoyable when he can greet all the _ahjummas_ who run the daily breakfast stands with loud smiles and infectious demands. However, today, it seems like the worst obstacle. If he had taken a taxi, a bus, or even rode a bicycle he would already be at home instead of freezing his ass off outside after barely being able to fulfill his promise to his mate.

The worn hoodie he’s wearing is too old and thin to really be of any use, but he’s had it for so long he can’t bring himself to throw it away. Besides, it’s so saturated with the mixed scent of _home_ and _mate_ the alpha in him would probably throw a territorial fit the moment it touched a trash can. The Hoseok part is just generally too much of a sap to toss the shared gift his mate had given him an uncountable number of years ago. Pictures of said mate wandering around the house in the same hoodie and soft shorts pop up in foggy bubbles of nostalgia and even as the wind passes easily through the skimpy cloth and seeps chillingly into his skin, he decides stubbornly that, nope, he’s definitely not getting rid of this piece of clothing anytime soon.

All the street stands are packed and gone at this time of night, and the walkways are filled with the blaring honks of traffic and the busy phone calls of passing pedestrians. Hoseok wishes for the quiet cheerfulness of his morning walks and the sunshine-soaked cuddles in his shared bed instead of the freezing clamor of noise he’s currently trapped in right now. He speeds up as much as he can without bursting into a full-out sprint, ending up somewhere between a light jog and an almost-run. People stare at his hurried gait, but he honestly can’t bring himself to care as his focus is trained solely on delivering the white box in his hands home to his awaiting mate, as he had promised so adamantly.

All he wants in return, he thinks with a hint of fumbling embarrassment, is a flushed grin of approval and maybe even a cooed compliment. Nothing makes the alpha in him puff up more than his mate’s own special brand of encouragement, complete with affectionate praises pecked lavishly all over his cheek. He sighs out loud, and Kihyun’s voice somehow worms its way into his brain at this inopportune moment ( _lovesick idiot!)_ , dispelling all his pining and leaving him with the cold reality, that, _shit_ , he’s way past his usual time for arriving home.

Hoseok is full-on sprinting now, not caring at all for what he looks like from an outside point of view. The lights of stores pass by in blurred flashes, and he catches snippets of certain songs blaring out through open doors. _“I’m like TT”_ sticks ironically in his brain, and he would laugh at the coincidental nature of it all if he wasn’t actually considering taking a break to lean against a telephone pole and cry about his bad time management and generally idiotic scheduling. Of course, he manages to shake that thought away based on the sole will of being greeted by his mate’s happy smile of approval, and he forges on, sprinting through the streets like some Olympic champion going for gold until his apartment complex comes into view.

He likes their neighborhood very much-- the landlord greeting everyone with a kind grin and a loud _hello!_ no matter what time of day, be it morning, night, noon, or evening. It applies just the same now as Hoseok slams into the lobby, prompting him to look up from his celebrity magazine and call out a cheery welcome.

“Hello! Just returned from work? Your partner came back hours ago,” He sends Hoseok a knowing look, eyebrow curved in the way that old grandmas do when they’re asking a question they fully know the answer to. “You don’t want to keep him waiting any longer, do you?” Hoseok fervently shakes his head no, which is met in full by his landlord nodding sagely in approval. He leans closer across the lobby counter, hand coming up to shield his mouth in a faux whisper as he asks another leading question.

“It’s almost _that_ time of the month, isn’t it?” He quickly goes to add on to his statement at the sudden worry streaking across the young alpha’s face, waving a hand around nonchalantly. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a fellow omega being as nosy as usual. There’s not a lot of gossip to go off on around here, and you two are the only youngsters who live in this building. Besides, I’ve always had a sensitive nose,” he winks, tapping at the tip of said nose with a pale finger. Hoseok would take offense that apparently everyone in the complex somehow knows his mate’s heat cycle if it wasn’t for the fact that they’re all probably just watching out for them in their own way. A very special and nosy way, to say the least.  

“Hurry and get on up there, young man! Don’t keep him waiting any longer than you already have!” he scolds lightly, an endearing chuckle threading its way into his command, and Hoseok wastes no time in ducking his head lightly in agreement before stepping into the apartment elevator.

Unfortunately, they live on the fourth floor and as the elevator rumbles to life around him, his stomach goes through its daily mini-rollercoaster everytime he gets within five feet off of the ground. He usually takes the stairs when he’s on his own - his mate’s affinity for being spooked by anything vaguely shadowy making him squeak cutely in protest every time Hoseok had tried to drag him through the “haunted” exit door. However, it’s his turn to whimper in fear as he forces himself to take the elevator. Logically, it is much faster, and he’s already wasted enough time as is, but emotionally he also can’t stand the thought of disappointing his mate any more than he already has.

The box of certain death finally lurches to a stop, and Hoseok totters out of it as quickly as possible, panting heavily as if he had sprinted without stop up a flight of infinite steps. Their apartment sits quietly at the end of the hallway, its rusted door plate glinting with a knowing copper eye towards his still shaking figure. _Man up_ , some indistinguishable voice breathes heatedly down the back of his neck, and Hoseok frowns. It resembles the suspicious strictness of his mother’s soft commands, and while he’s all for gender equality in this modern day and age, he’s a momma’s boy through and through.

He blows out a final shaking breath, closing his eyes as he concentrates on the familiar musk of the dusty hallway, on the empty cigarette smoke and looping spiderwebs, on curling warmth, heat, and home. His buzzing nerves calm like popping champagne bubbles, jittery hysteria melting into a light fizz of fruity excitement that settles under his skin with a surge of nervous energy. The pure terror from the elevator ride trickles into the dry air, leaving Hoseok buzzing in place with something more akin to...impulsive apprehension.

Crumpled paper crinkles noisily within his dampened fist, and Hoseok is hastily reminded of the task at hand: his lovely mate, waiting all by his lonesome self at home, waiting for Hosok to be a responsible partner and to return with what he asked for. Guilt swells as hard as a rock in his throat, and he swallows it down, shivering as the champagne bubbles continue to hiss through his veins, hounding him to get on with it already.

For all his rush to get home, the minute distance from the elevator door to his apartment seems to drag on infinitely longer than it ever should. The shuffle of his sneakers over layers of grimy filth-coated fibers is too loud in his pounding ears, and Hoseok strives to block out the strange sensation of electric friction creeping up through rubber soles and alighting with sharp sparks through flesh and bone. It’s the nerves, he thinks again, rubbing a palm roughly across the back of his neck, suspicious of the sudden trail of goosebumps prickling up the line of his locked spine.

Something about him must be going haywire, he considers, finally stopping in front the apartment door and it’s ever-so-slightly tilted number plate after what had felt like an eternity of pacing half-caught breaths. It’s always been like this: the invisible strings of tension lacing over his skin, through his consciousness, and pulling him along by some base instinct that Hoseok can only describe as a fog of intoxicating heat and warmth. Even now he can’t run any complete thoughts through his head, with every attempt beginning as half-formed sentences and ending as a butchered pile of spat out words and jumbled emotions.

Hoseok stands still before his own apartment, chin low as indescribable feelings weigh heavy on the tip of his tongue, waiting, begging for him to spill them into the open air. And yet, when he opens his mouth nothing escapes except for a long shuddering sigh. A hint of sweetness curls gently around him, stroking teasingly down the line of his chin before withdrawing like an errant ghost back through his apartment door.

Every time Hoseok, he chastises, chasing away the swollen words with a harsh drag of teeth over tongue as he finally rummages through cotton fluff and slim paper receipts for his key. So many years have passed, and he still has no idea on how to properly handle the oncoming agitation of heat. Still, staring like a goldfish at his apartment door will do no good, and he finally wades through his tangled thoughts and jumping nerves to step into his own home with a definitive _click._

Immediately - everything just _settles._ His mind, which had been flying through stars and planets, millions of light years away from his current consciousness, floats back to earth with a docile sigh. The fruity champagne dies down too, no longer the strike of midnight on New Year’s Day, but instead the happy, too drunk cuddling an hour afterwards. Hoseok breathes, lungs, chest, bones expanding with wispy cumulus clouds, and he stands - stands and bathes in what could only be the scent of _home, mate, love_.

A hopeless romantic, _yes he knows_ , but what can he do when all he can feel is his heart wrenching with the lactic soreness of adoration at even the unseen presence of his mate.

A moment or two more of pure basking continues before Hoseok ducks his head just-so out of the clouds and calls out for his mate as his feet automatically begin to lead him on a precise invisible path. “Jooheonie~?” he calls, and he can’t even find the shame to wince at what must be dopey joy coloring his voice, not when that comfy cottony scent leads him closer and closer by the second.

“In here, hyung-” a muffled voice replies, warbling through the empty cavern of Hoseok’s barely-there brain and forcing him to open his eyes to meet the crackling tundra of a flat tan wall. He immediately stumbles around a sharp corner, nose cutting with hair-like precision past the very possible impact of hard plaster as he swings dazedly into their tiny kitchen.

There, his mate sits, tucked against the wall and the edge of a table, greeting him with a dimpled smile as he keeps his bare fingers curled delicately in what looks like a mangled slab of dough. Specks of flour are powdered in splattering blossoms over his face, a petal here on a round cheek, another curled on the tip of his nose, and there’s no doubt the white turtleneck Jooheon has pulled up to his chin is tangled with bits of the ingredient as well. Hoseok smiles back with his own achingly wide grin, cheeks bunching into two rosy mounds at the precious sight before him.

“Welcome home.” A loose wave wafts through the distance between them, a curtain of powder falling like silent night snow from Jooheon’s crusted palm onto the plastic sheen of the table. The omega takes a moment to guiltily eye the second mess he’s made before shooting Hoseok another deep smile, complete with a twin-set of dimples.

The older man is moving closer, quicker than he had ever thought himself physically capable of, and before he even realizes it, his nose is nestled into Jooheon’s curls, inhaling and exhaling as he wraps himself wordlessly around the younger’s solid warmth. A faint gasp sounds right against his ear, breath tickling past his skin as the omega sits stunned at the seemingly desperate display of affection.

The second of surprise passes without hesitation, and Jooheon is immediately curling back into Hoseok’s embrace, patting with sticky fingers at the elder’s chin as he carefully turns to face him cheek to cheek. “You’re so cold,” he murmurs, eyes roving with a gentle stroking glance over Hoseok’s lidded own. He folds the warm, flour-coated center of both palms against his mate’s chill-bitten cheeks and dusts a breathy kiss right below the flushed line of the other man’s fluttering lashes. “Don’t tell me this was because of the care package?” he asks, slowly nosing his way down Hoseok’s frozen skin, infusing bits of numbing warmth into thawing flesh with every tender drag of his lips over twitching cheeks.

“Entirely worth it,” the alpha mumbles, running the words through his mouth and dropping them into the minuscule distance between their bodies as if each one was encased in a dripping block of amber. There’s a pleasant fog of sweetness curtaining across his brain, and it unfurls over his vision too, forcing him to blink far more often than someone who’s perfectly awake should do. It comes again, wisping in silken strands across the up-close curve of Jooheon’s smile, and Hoseok blinks rapidly, eyelashes tangling as he attempts to shake himself out of this unworldly daze.

“You’re too sweet on me,” Jooheon states in a way that sounds like he doesn’t mind at all, pushing the words with a chaste kiss across Hoseok’s numb lips. He draws away, gentle and languid, and the older man chases after that imprint of warmth with a much more heated kiss of his own.

Jooheon’s casual praises have always done impossible wonders for Hoseok’s fragile alpha ego, and the soft noises currently melting into the heavy press of his mouth only encourage his hindbrain to puff up that much more with unnecessary bravado. _You are so whipped Shin Hoseok,_ he tells himself, the message echoing through his mind in a mixed tone of Kihyun’s self-righteous disgust, his mother’s affectionate chiding, and a pathetically dreamy voice that suspiciously resembles his own.

A breathless gasp finally pulls him out of his hazy reverie, and they separate with a dragging yearning reluctance. Jooheon meets his gaze, mirroring the same flushed slightly dazed expression, and blood roars in crashing waves through the crags of Hoseok’s ears at the realization that maybe he wasn’t the only one who was affected by so simple a kiss between them.

Dare he say, watching the way glazed brown eyes follow the casual swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, Jooheon’s just as gone as he is.

“Don’t tease,” the younger man sighs, shifting away with a glossy pout even as he allows Hoseok to fold chilled hands around his powdery own. The flour has formed a layer of cracked dough all the way down to the edge of his palm, pulling tight and rigid over his dry skin, but the familiar press of Hoseok’s callused hold, the rasp of sharp knuckles, and the steady curl of roughened fingers infuses some kind freezing warmth back into Jooheon’s stiff joints.

“Am I?” Hoseok asks absentmindedly, blatantly running a thumb over every uneven ridge of bone and flesh, every slight fingertip, and purposefully pausing right on the jumping pulse of Jooheon’s pale wrist, measuring each rapid jolt of translucent veins against the rhythm of his own erratic heartbeat.

“You are,” Jooheon breathes, lashes already fluttering shut as he pulls Hoseok back in by the neck of his ( _their_ ) ratty hoodie for a teeth-clacking, saccharine-sweet kiss.

The half-kneaded dough sits deflated and forgotten for hours into the starry night.

 

~

 

“You ready for tomorrow?” Hoseok says by way of greeting, along with a short peck to the corner of Jooheon’s steam-flushed cheek as his mate climbs into bed beside him. Bare legs tangle into the crooks of his own, slipping ticklishly along lotion-smoothed skin until they’re fitted perfectly against every curve, every arch, and every possible empty space with a seeping unfurling warmth.

“Are _you_?” Jooheon slyly prompts, turning the question on him with a light perk of a single eyebrow. The only lamp in their bedroom casts a dim shadow across his lidded stare, painting carefree brown eyes into a darker shade of swirling ink as the liquid lust within them writes itself into apparency with a promise of intense, incomprehensible, and unbearable heat.  

“You know I never am,” Hoseok admits casually, openly, even as he immediately reaches over to turn off the lamp, snapping off the low hum of the dimming bulb with a shaky press of his finger. Jooheon’s easy gaze holds him captive through the space of complete shadow, two pinpoints of feverish light that remind the alpha all too much of the wild cats in the various National Geographic documentaries he had watched at half-awake moments from 2 to 4 am. Not terrifying per say, but fascinating in a delicate, untouchable way.

“I know,” a muffled murmur arises, threading its way through the darkness as the unflinching gaze finally drops to his chest and warmth nuzzles up like a lazy housecat against the length of his neck, “that you do your best.” Hoseok’s heartbeat jackhammers like an overly-energized hummingbird in his ribcage as the impression of a kiss ghosts over the corner of his chin. “And that’s all that matters to me.”

The words melt along his jawline with another plush press of lips, and everything slows to a pulsing rhythm - the errant palpitations beating through his veins, the coiling breath-in breath-out of Jooheon’s drowsy little sighs over his collarbones -  and they fall to peaceful sleep, irreversibly tangled in and around one other.

 

~

 

Hoseok wakes before the sun, blearily blinking away confusion through muffled shadows and vague shapeless dreams filled with stifling warmth from his crusted vision. The bedside clock displays 4 am sharp in its clinical red letters, and Hoseok rubs at one swollen eye, still not sure what he’s doing awake at this hour.

The answer is immediately apparent when a broken moan shatters the thin silence and the soft length of a body presses itself to his half-asleep arm, emanating a burning sense of urgency that has the lower part of Hoseok’s brain instantly snapping awake. His mouth falls open on automatic instinct, and the scent of vanilla dripping with the burnt aftertaste of smoke and candlewax pummels without an ounce of mercy into the center of his gut. Hoseok chokes on absolutely nothing but the sudden dryness coating his throat in a layer of panic, and he flails uselessly among the tangle of limbs and blankets as he tries to fumble a hand free for the bedside lamp.

His clumsy attempt is shortly put down by a shuddering weight that seats itself right onto the curve of his stomach with an audible exhale of sharp breath. Hoseok’s outstretched arm flops lifeless onto the bed, bouncing off the rim of the mattress for good measure as he meets a pair of very alert, very intense black eyes.

His body shakes, giving way to the simmering fire above it, and the red sirens of panic wail even louder through echoing space of his brain, knocking with bony knuckles against his fragile cranium for him to do something, _anything_ , to appease the silent omega currently crushing him into the worn mattress.

Well, turning on the light is definitely not a feasible option. In fact, Hoseok isn’t even sure moving would be a wise idea. _Smart_ , a voice sasses indiscriminately through the flashing frenzy, and Hoseok doesn’t have to be on the verge of a breakdown to immediately recognize that, once again, Kihyun is intruding on very personal moments in his life.

For once, he decides to entertain his disembodied friend seeing as a. he can’t move and b. he’s also too scared to move, which leaves him right where he started, helpless, useless, and without a single plan of action. _What am I supposed to do then_ , he whispers back, envisioning the words as curling elegant script that is then quickly sucked away into trails of smoke by the black vacuum of his mind.

 _Dumbass, aren’t you alphas supposed to know?_ mind-Kihyun shoots back, and Hoseok can already see the other’s 360-degree eye roll as he crosses his bony arms into a position that screams dissatisfaction. Hoseok racks his hysterical brain for an answer, but all he can come up with is the fuzzy memory of Jooheon’s apologetic post-heat grin, lips even plumper than usual from days of biting bruising kisses, and he only has the vague sense that maybe he wasn’t the one doing all the bruising.

 _Uh_ , he replies, eloquent as ever, _I don’t remember?_

A harsh sigh drags as rough as sandpaper across his sensitive nerve endings, and Hoseok wonders deliriously when his imagination decided to take such creative and oddly accurate liberties with its portrayal of his real-life friend. Either way, in this moment of absolute desperation, he’s willing to take whatever advice from wherever he can get it, even if it’s technically from his own warring subconscious.

 _Well, why don’t you start by, you know, being a good partner and actually talking to him?_ imaginary-Kihyun offers, exasperated as he massages his tensed brow with translucent, half-colored fingers. _I’m sure it’d soothe him more than your goldfish stare_ , he adds, softer, staring back at Hoseok through the fleshy passageways of his mind with a serious, stormcloud-grey gaze.

Hoseok swallows audibly around the hard lump in his throat, focusing back on reality to meet the same unflinching dark stare. He honest-to-God can’t remember what he did the last time to snap Jooheon out of the initial heat-haze (something about slipping in the bathroom, startled from a blind back hug and smashing the both of them against the hard porcelain tiles of the floor), and he decides that talking is at least better than the aforementioned “goldfish” stare and definitely preferable to nothing at all.

“Jooheonie,” he starts, allowing the affectionate nickname to roll off his tongue without a second thought even as his voice tremors with the minute vibrations of an age-old oak. The only reaction he receives is a deliberate blink, plunging his world into complete darkness, if only for a second, before the unreadable glint of shining obsidian pupils is emerging again like the sun’s arching rays from behind the eclipsed moon and re-attaching back onto his own.

 _Calm_ , breath-in, breath-out, he tells himself, practicing the exact exercise he teaches to his students at the gym. You’ll never accomplish anything short on breath, he repeats, mirroring himself word for word as he searches frantically for something to say. Jooheon only stares, t-shirt loose around bare collarbones and thighs tucked tight around Hoseok’s stomach as he waits with a detached calm for the fluttering heartbeat of the alpha ( _his_ alpha) to settle into the steady cadence from before.

“Did you already call in for leave at work?” the older man asks, rash bravery building at an erratic pace with every mumbled word until he feels unusually confident enough to carefully fit his hands into the curve of Jooheon’s tensed waist.

The omega seems to drop in his hold, falling as if every part of him, every length of muscle, every cell and particle was sighing with the single-minded exhaustion of coming back home to the all-encompassing embrace of a lover and a heart-achingly deep kiss. Hoseok catches Jooheon with a surprised _oomph_ , automatically winding his arms snugly around the younger’s back and fitting their bodies together with the perfect slide of one puzzle piece into another. He swears he can hear a _click_ in his mind the moment Jooheon loops his own arms in an easy hold around his neck, digging his nose right under the sharp corner of Hoseok’s jaw and inhaling with a shaky gasping breath.

The older man opens his mouth, a jumbled question attempting to untangle itself on the tip of his tongue, but Jooheon only nuzzles harder, practically burying himself against Hoseok’s neck as he tries to find the very essence of so familiar a scent. An indescribable sound drags itself out from the alpha’s throat, words turning into some sort of strangled gurgle as his own mind slips into a haze from the sudden onslaught of dripping honey and burnt vanilla slathering over every one of his senses.

He scrabbles to sit up, scraping the back of his neck against the looping steel structure of the headboard, and he pulls Jooheon up with him, hands still dug into the soft flesh of the younger’s hips. The omega whines, dislodged from the source of that clearwater, lavender- fresh scent, and he surges against Hoseok’s lap, blindly following his nose back towards the invisible, enticing, siren’s call.

The alpha catches the lunging body just in time, gritting his teeth against the sudden hot pressure against a part of him that’s more awake and interested than it should be at this time of day. A signature whine threads into the non-existent space between them, and Hoseok has to clench his fingers deep into the younger’s hips as some sort of unspoken warning to the both of them. His own control is fraying as quickly as a string of ignited firecrackers, and one look at Jooheon’s flushed filmy gaze says he’s already far past a sane state of mind.

“Jooheonie,” he repeats, pulling as close as possible without the danger of losing himself to the half-open pout of the other’s cherry-blossom lips. The omega wriggles, inconsolable in the intimate proximity as everything he could ever want is right there before him, but the distance between them spans impossibly long, forbidding him to ever cross it, to reach out and just _touch._ He whimpers, high and breathy from the very top of his nose, and sits down _hard_ as a slight shadowy whisper tells him to make the alpha react somehow.

“Don’t - tease,” he pleads, struggling with just two simple words, choking them out in a broken succession to one another. “Hoseok-” he begins again, a desperate cry flooding his voice as the alpha only holds tighter, completely motionless even as Jooheon writhes like an errant puppy against his lap.

“Jooheon - just - did you get leave for a week?” Hoseok asks, struggling to enunciate clearly as the ball of heat pushes directly onto his crotch. “Yes or no?” he questions again, harder, pulling Jooheon right up against him, pressing chest to chest, chin to chin, two pairs of parted lips just a hair’s breadth apart. The omega stares directly into his eyes, and this time Hoseok stares back, reading an explosive nebula of frenzied emotion - lust, want, hunger, but mostly a teary begging desperation.

 _Take care of me_ , it screams, and a flash of white bursts soundlessly across Hoseok’s vision as something audibly snaps.

“Yes,” Jooheon breathes, biting out the word as if it were a thorn in his mouth. “Changkyun - he called in-”

The rest of his sentence is swallowed up by a greedy, open-mouthed kiss as Hoseok slots his mouth over the omega’s pliant own. A wet tongue flicks, searching and careful, and Jooheon is responding with a stifled moan, urgently pressing back with uncontrolled fervor as he clambers even closer, fitting himself to Hoseok’s front in a searing line of clamoring flesh and heat as if attempting to physically meld the two of them together as one. Electricity burns blue in the chilled morning air, threading through every point of contact between their bodies with a moment of tingling awareness. It only makes the numbing clack of teeth rattle harder, the heaving cadence of their bodies to quicken that much more, and the need for any barriers between flushed skin to be gone _immediately_.

 _This is heat_ , Hoseok realizes deliriously as they finally separate with the slick _pop_ of a kiss unwilling to end. He sees his own wild expression mirrored in Jooheon’s feverish gaze, and the same animal instinct coils and springs, launching them simultaneously towards one another.

Sharp nails scrabble and tear at clothing, insatiable mouths slide over one another in a meeting of plain desire, and Hoseok closes his eyes and loses his mind to the gulping, scorching, searing heat.

 

~

 

Hoseok comes to, slipping out of what had seemed like a momentary lapse of consciousness to the fumes of sweat, slick, and sex fogging up through his nose and into every pulsing passageway of the red-hot nerves in his brain.

The world is still bathed in darkness, but some now-awakened third eye has set every inch of his body on alert. All his senses throb, alight with the uncontrollable jitters Hoseok has only experienced in the aftermath of five cans of red bull and as the pads of his fingers prod wetly against heaving flesh and a sticky sweetness coats across his tongue, he realizes exactly what’s going on.

Which currently consists of Jooheon, completely naked in his own equally unclothed lap, mindlessly riding his stiffened fingers towards frenzied orgasm.  

The alpha stares, impossibly still, as lewd sounds of slick slipping over skin mix indiscriminately well with cut-off gasps and moans. All of it filters into his brain as broken trickles of noise, slowly oiling the locked gears of his mind and kicking his paused thought process back into gripping action. It finally occurs to Hoseok to ask, to wonder _terrified_ , just how many rounds they’ve gone while he was “out.”

Jooheon inadvertently answers for him, clenching tight around the alpha’s soaked fingers one last time before dragging himself off of them with a shuddering jolt. Hoseok uncurls his hand on instinct, palm twitching from the sudden breath of cold air settling over the previous layer of liquid warmth, and there is a single dreadful moment where he stares hard and long at a shining finger - and considers licking it.

(Un)fortunately, Jooheon trembles, shaking minutely against his lap, and Hoseok is knocked out of his haphazard thought by the demanding clench of thighs around his waist that compresses his organs directly into his ribs. The alpha releases an unwilling exhale of breath as joking instances of “crush me with your thighs” replay unbidden through his mind. He decides, regrettably, that perhaps there were other better, less painful ways to go.

The industrial machine that is his mate’s powerhouse legs finally lets up around his suffocated stomach, and Hoseok gasps, dragging in lungfuls of much-needed air through the raw column of his burning throat. He’s allowed one more struggling inhale before his brief reprieve is over, and Jooheon is grinding blindly back against his lap, each rough motion dislodging a frustrated moan from parted lips for every second that Hoseok sits there dumbfounded and motionless.

“Please,” the omega grits out, digging the nails of his fingers into the defenseless flesh of the older man’s stomach, “I need-” He throws his head back, words mangled into a silent scream as the wet rim of his fluttering hole catches right against the edge of the alpha’s pulsing cock.

Hoseok’s own vision flickers, black to red to indeterminate multi-colored explosions, and his teeth seem to shake violently in his skull from how hard he’s clenching them together. He closes his eyes, inhales a searching meditative breath and pulls the omega’s quavering body to his own, hands steady around a twitching waist as he attempts to keep a tight fist around the string of his fraying control.

“Slowly, Jooheonie, slowly,” he whispers, planting a trail of brief kisses across the younger’s sweat-stained brow. The omega whines, begging against his ear, and thrashes wildly in his grip, searching mindlessly for that fleeting feeling of fullness he had experienced so briefly before.

“Shh,” Hoseok soothes as calmly as possible even as his stomach roils with hissing acid and roaring instinct, and he lifts the struggling omega up with one arm wound around his twisting waist, clumsily fumbling for his own throbbing cock with the other. Jooheon catches on immediately, flopping limply onto Hoseok’s sweat-soaked chest and burying his nose into the glistening pulse of freshwater springs and trailing lavender right under the crook of the other’s jaw, waiting docilely for that perfect heat to fill him up to the very brim.

Hoseok lines himself up as best as he can in complete darkness and gradually eases into the omega’s insatiable warmth in a teeth-grinding, sweat-pouring process of pure torture. Even with the sudden gush of slick soaking his cock, the friction between them drags too painfully for too long, and Hoseok has to hold Jooheon to him in an unrelenting embrace, a throbbing instinct at the base of his brain sure that the moment he lets go the omega will tear himself open without a care for his own safety.

Progress is achingly slow, but it is made one agonizing inch at a time, and Hoseok keeps his breaths even, continuously massaging a hand through soaked curls to soothe away the mumbled gasps of distress. Rounded fingers scrabble continuously at his bare chest, and Hoseok presses impossibly closer, winding their bodies into a tangled hybrid of one as he waits for the harrowing phenomena of gravity to take its course of action.  

Finally, the seemingly impossible is achieved, and Hoseok draws in a bone shattering, soul-aching breath as he seats the entirety of his twitching length within Jooheon’s fluttering heat. Strangled moans tentatively fill the indistinct space between them, from who, Hoseok can’t quite tell, and he numbingly loosens his grip around a supple waist as the omega begins to _move._

The first tentative roll of hips has him choking on a cry of surprise, and he surges forward, encompassing Jooheon’s body within his own as he clutches the younger to him in a clinging urgent hold. The omega hiccups, stars rolling across his vision and lighting every nerve on fire with the energy of a thousand solar flares, and he seeks out that moment of lightning-shock pleasure again, impaling himself on that solid, throbbing fullness without an ounce of restraint.

Hoseok groans, the sound of it rumbling like the oncoming warning of faraway thunder through the stormcloud-cavern of his chest, and his hips snap against his control, burying him indeterminately deep into the melting soft furnace of Jooheon’s body. The omega buckles, back arching into a twisted bow as he screams brokenly into the heavy darkness. In the next moment, callused hands are dragging him back down with a relentless grip that digs bruising imprints of possession into his hips, and he’s practically pierced through by the sharp force of the alpha’s thrust. The air is punched out of him with every pointed upward strike, and Jooheon meets the next slap of hips midway, filling his gasping lungs with the smoky scent of soaked want and liquid heat, instead of much-needed air.

Their moans and cries intermingle until Hoseok’s lips are slotted messily over Jooheon’s own, rough hands are melded to delicate flesh, and small fingers are tugging unevenly at mussed hair. He licks past swollen lips and tastes the dripping honey of the younger’s heaving moans, the waxy vanilla of his inscrutable begging. Fire, _heat_ , burns through him, conducted by the interlocking column of their naked bodies, and Hoseok deliriously pictures grey brain matter mixing with the clear sweat winding down his neck.

Every thought is unfinished, wisping into ash even before its conception and replaced with only the single need to please, to give his body and soul _,_ his _everything_ , until his mate - his omega - is contented, satiated, and safe within his arms.

The last thought sweeps past him in an unexpected moment of surprise, and Hoseok gasps as his throbbing cock jolts, pushing him over the edge into the crashing wave of an orgasm. He comes, wave after shuddering wave, clutching Jooheon to him as if he were the only thing left in the world precious enough to hold onto, riding out each quivering pull with the unfurling scent of his mate buried to his very core.

Jooheon shakes uncontrollably as he’s filled to the brim and then some with the raw essence of life, fire, _heat._ He climaxes, mouth open as the hoarse trail of a gasp escapes from his heaving body, automatically constricting tight around Hoseok’s drained member as some primal instinct calls for the final act of devotion, for them to be tied together through body and soul for the rest of the universe’s eternal existence.

Hoseok’s knot inflates, and they simultaneously moan as he thrusts back in with one last painful _pop._ Jooheon tightens uselessly around the alpha’s hard length, omega instinct calling for him to milk the older man dry even as trails of come are already drawing sticky trails over the inner creases of his thighs. The knot pulses, as if it were alive with its own heartbeat, and Jooheon sighs, strangely soothed by the pouring rhythm of heat surging over and over into him.

He curls up, exhausted, against the up-and-down mountain of his mate’s chest and falls into a dreamless sleep, momentarily satisfied with the sluggish fire settling, coiling into his aching stomach.

Hoseok hikes the omega to him as close as possible, taking care to not tug the younger’s sensitive body on the delicate base of his knot, and he pulls a wrinkled blanket over the both of them with aching, sticky fingers. He drops his chin to Jooheon’s disheveled curls and falls into a light doze, dreaming of indistinct valleys coated with rich golden honey and luscious vanilla orchids as his mate’s gentle smile awaits, beckoning at the center of it all.

 

~

 

The next round flashes by in the pale light of morning with Jooheon on his knees, face smothered repeatedly into a stray pillow as he inches closer and closer towards the headboard from the erratic force of Hoseok’s thrusts.

His moans hitch unevenly, rising and falling in perfect tandem with every shuddering motion. Daylight breaks through the muffled curtains, bathing them in the glow of gentle yellow that could only come with a winter’s cold morning. Neither of them pause in their frenzied lovemaking, blind to everything but the friction rubbing slick and sweet between their bodies.

Jooheon arches, tailbone lifting by an invisible string, dragging Hoseok’s gaze down to meet his own by unspoken command. The morning light pools soft within slim irises, melting black coffee into caramel sugar, but the pleading command sits as solid as an outcropped stone within parting ocean waves, and Hoseok, unbidden, rises to please.

He lays himself across the line of the omega’s curved back, melding flesh against flesh as he presses impossibly deeper into Jooheon’s tight heat. The sound of a caught breath is snatched up by the inching, dragging motion of his cock across slippery walls as he angles his hips right _there_ \- hitting against the unreachable special spot that always has the omega calling out so sweetly for him.   

Jooheon cries, sob drawn out into a long trailing pitch that bounces unfiltered through the wide space of their bedroom. The walls seem to shake, and Hoseok sends an apology to the nice grandma living next door as a half-formed afterthought. The grip around his swollen cock has grown vice-like, and he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses up the porcelain knobs of Jooheon’s spine, finishing the last one at the base of a bowed neck with a hint of teeth.

He pulls out almost entirely, the flushed angry head of his cock catching messily against a pink rim before pushing back in with one fluid, excruciatingly smooth motion. Another choked whine escapes from kiss-bitten lips, and a bubble of pride swells within Hoseok’s heaving chest. He may not be the smartest alpha, but after this long he knows more than enough to at least make his mate feel good.

“Hoseok - Hoseok-” Jooheon pants, meeting the alpha’s mind-numbingly precise thrusts the best he can trapped in-between the dipping mattress below and the dense muscle above. Something uncoils, loosening like a hastily tied knot within his abdomen, and that’s the only warning he receives before an orgasm is dragging across his crushed insides, knife-like in its intensity as it pushes him towards the very zenith of pain and pleasure. He comes, Hoseok’s name as silent as a prayer on his parted lips.

The alpha’s own inevitable orgasm rips through him just seconds later, and he winces as his spent cock jumps again to attention, practically cut off with no circulation and yet hastily ready with a swelling, fully-formed knot. Jooheon whimpers, low and wavering from the raw tears in his misused throat, and his hips cant backwards, automatically magnetized to the promise of _more._

The knot goes in with much more painstaking difficulty this time, the bulging height of it stretching the omega’s already sore hole past its limit, and Hoseok pets delicately along Jooheon’s trembling sides as he pushes in gradually, inch by torturous inch. At long last, the entirety of his distended cock is swallowed up by the open heat of the younger’s pliant willing body, and they both release a shaky sigh as the pulsing rush of come starts again, filling the omega up with a familiar flood of continuous pressure.

Hoseok gingerly maneuvers the both of them onto their sides, palms interlaced across the soft plane of Jooheon’s quivering stomach as if unconsciously searching for some mark, some stretching imprint of himself under the cushiony cream of skin. There’s nothing but clammy sweat and yielding flesh under his hands, but the alpha in him decides that there’s something there, a minuscule distention of pulled muscle, a transparent swelling beneath fat and sinew that molds perfectly to the length of his cock.

Jooheon sighs in his light doze, curving back against Hoseok’s chest as if he had heard those very thoughts out loud. The alpha blinks, struck with flushed embarrassment for his irrational thoughts, and he nuzzles into the crook of Jooheon’s pinking ear, determined to focus on only the omega’s wellbeing during this ruthlessly intimate week.

A purring rumble swells between them, and Hoseok, even half-asleep, responds promptly with his own low rolling hum of reassurance.

 

~

 

Hoseok comes to without warning, snapping awake to the sight of complete darkness filling the room with only the meager light of the moon streaming in past the threadbare curtains of the window. The red glare of the bedside clock reads 8 in the afternoon, and his stomach growls as if to further prove a point.

Which is the fact that they’ve been fucking non-stop all day, and now would be an absolutely appropriate time to eat, drink, and  _definitely_ shower.

With a vague outline of a plan already forming in mind, Hoseok flattens his palms over the steady rise-and-fall of Jooheon’s stomach and braces for the inevitable dry drag of separation between their softened bodies. The knot, limp and deflated, still pulses with a phantom ache as Hoseok pulls out of the omega’s clenched grip with slow deliberate ease. Still, even with his careful pace, a sluggish noise of discontent winds its way over the hunched curve of a bare shoulder. He whispers an unintelligible sigh of apology into the short scruff of the other’s neck before interlacing his fingers into a web of makeshift support as he yanks himself out with one final burn of friction.

Immediately, a whine pierces through the air and Hoseok is rolling the omega’s listless body around to curl into his, nuzzling kisses of hasty affection and half-formed praises across heat-stroked cheeks. Wordless seconds of pouting follow, but Hoseok tilts the edge of his jaw to one side, allowing open access to the pale pounding vein threading through his neck at his most vulnerable intimate place. The omega is suddenly all chirruping coos and contented sighs as he digs the side of his face into the tight bony crook right under Hoseok’s ear.

“Jooheonie,” he prompts quietly, testing for a response. All he receives is a happy hum that flutters over his skin with the furry legs of a curiously warm butterfly. Hoseok runs his fingers mindlessly through tangled black locks, automatically soothed by the simple sound even as the next course of action leaves him with a rising undercurrent of panic. It’s that in-between state where the inferno of heat lags, leaving the omega soft, raw, and oh-so-gentle in Hoseok’s not-too capable palms. He wouldn’t call it lucidity, but it’s the closest Jooheon ever comes to snapping out of his insatiable reckless begging for Hoseok’s sore, overused knot.

He coughs, cheeks pinking as a forgotten trail of unfiltered cries falling from reddened lips brushes, secretive, through his mind, and a jumping impulse within him is drawn forward, irrationally chasing after that alluring stream of siren song, determined to swallow it all down from the very source. Another affectionate nuzzle rubs across his jaw, and Hoseok hastily wipes away that wandering thought. A shower, yes, that’s what he had been thinking about. A shower that they both need to take - probably at the same time too. To save water, he affirms obviously. Besides, with the way Jooheon is currently latched onto him in a limp stranglehold, Hoseok doesn’t think anything could separate them anytime soon, not even slightly scalding water.

“We’re going to take a shower okay?” he suggests, stippling the words in delicate kisses across Jooheon’s upturned brow. The omega frowns, lips pulling into the drooping buds of a peony flower, and Hoseok takes the chance to plant a chaste kiss onto his plush pout as well. He leans back, and Jooheon continues staring in mild displeasure, nonplussed from the  surprise “attack.” Hoseok feigns a sigh, heart still pit-pattering wildly at the droopy-eyed expression on his mate’s blotchy pink visage. “What if,” he suggests, hands already draping loosely down Jooheon’s waist, “I carry you?” he finishes, not able to resist grazing a quick Eskimo kiss over the younger’s pointed nose.

His answer comes in the form of an eager press of lips, none too gently against his own, and Hoseok’s yelp of surprise is mashed into the sweet slide of Jooheon’s open mouth over his own. _That’s a yes then_ , he guesses, strengthening his hold around the younger’s waist as he reaches out blindly with the other hand for the crook of Jooheon’s bent knees.

For once, the omega complies easily and coils into Hoseok’s lap, detaching from the alpha’s mouth with a little _pop_ as he readily settles his arms around the older man’s neck and waits for his personal ride to begin. “Pampered,” Hoseok teases sparsely, focusing on Jooheon’s mirth-filled grin with a serious stare of his own. The omega only flashes him a set of dimples, letting them dip charmingly deep into his creamy cheeks, and Hoseok’s will to resist vaporizes like a child’s wriggling balloon floating up, up into the wide blue sky.

He makes do with bouncing Jooheon a little rougher than necessary as he stands up on popping joints, creaking knees, and an aching back. The omega squeaks and hauls himself up like a monkey around the trunk of Hoseok’s neck, clinging on with the stranglehold of what could be a professional wrestler. The alpha sways unsteadily in the short journey to the bathroom, shoulders tensed under the needlepoint pressure of Jooheon’s scrabbling fingers. Honestly, from the younger man’s deathly tight grip, Hoseok is beginning to consider whether or not he should start asking him to help spot during weightlifting sessions (because God knows Kihyun’s stick-thin chicken arms shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near potentially heavy weights-turned-weaponry).

He glances down, at the hunched curl of Jooheon’s curved body, the slight roll of his cotton-down stomach, and pushes it decidedly far from the compact clanging of iron against flesh. If anything, it’s the way his mate’s body melts velveteen and soft against his firmer own and even with the danger of smashing in his sculpted jawline, he’d rather keep that tenderness safely bundled up in oversized sweaters (that drape just so slightly over curled fingers) and away from muscle tanks and ruthless metal machinery.

But first, he thinks, redirecting himself back on course as he hikes Jooheon up to his chest with a much gentler lift, a shower is in order.

 

~

 

“Wait-” Hoseok chokes out, attempting to blink flecks of stinging shampoo and scalding water out of his vision as Jooheon’s wide-eyed innocence stares back up at him, all the while seating the seam of his perky ass right against the line of Hoseok's rapidly hardening cock.

There are clouds of white foam wisping over the flopped strands of Jooheon’s wet hair, hair that Hoseok had trusted the omega to wash out himself as he had dutifully turned around to start his own nightly cleansing. Apparently not, because the moment he had turned right back around, massaging a palmful of artificial honey and lavender against his itching scalp, Jooheon’s foggy gaze had immediately sharpened downwards with a surge of sudden clarity.

And now here they are, Hoseok literally frozen under the steamy spray of the shower, translucent bubbles popping in a stinging trail towards his eyes, and Jooheon’s soap-slick body rubbing much too easily up against his own. Another tentative shift of hips, and the heady scent of heat drips through the laden mist of the shower, sending Hoseok’s mind into an unrestrained tailend spin towards the base of his unabashedly erect cock. Every grind of Jooheon’s glistening backside against his wet front slips lewdly with the sound of soapy skin, and Hoseok doesn’t know if he’d prefer the torturous ease of this to the teeth-gritting burn of friction between their overheated sweat-soaked bodies in bed.

The heel of his foot slides errantly for just a few unexpected seconds from another tight press of the enticing curve of Jooheon’s ass, and Hoseok curses, vision marring at the edges from burning drops of shampoo and the hazy creep of heat. His entire body is tensed as if preparing for a punch, but the only impact that comes is the heady call from the omega’s gasping mouth and the taut, stretched line of his gleaming bare back.

Jooheon slots the crease of his backside perfectly right over Hoseok’s stifled cock, and the indecent _click_ of their bodies together like some raunchy puzzle piece kicks the dormant alpha impulse coiled at the back of his brain into overdrive. Forget the obscene press of Jooheon’s arched hips into the creaking mattress; in this frenzied state of mind Hoseok’s about to attempt a much more risqué position that could only result in further bruising.

The omega moans, drawing it into a fluttering ribbon of sound that bounces off the muggy tiles into Hoseok’s ringing ears, magnified 10 times by the cramped space of their tiny apartment bathroom. He grinds back, latching his arms around the alpha’s strained neck in an impressive feat of flexibility as he bends like a supple bow, easily arching under the dense pull of tension. If the shampoo hadn’t dispersed in a filmy veil over the rest of Hoseok’s vision, he’d certainly be choking at the proffered scene before him.

As it stands, he only mouths along the line of Jooheon’s half-washed hair, tasting the clean essence of skin mixed with the bitter tang of soap and something else that’s indescribably, suspiciously sweet. Honey maybe, he guesses, grazing the hard edge of his teeth down over an unmarred throat. Vanilla too, he thinks, licking messily over a twitching jackrabbit pulse. A lilting whine pulls itself needily from Jooheon’s puffy mouth, and Hoseok finds himself biting down with just a hint of pressure even as a vague warning flares through his mind.

The arms around his throat are abruptly gone, and Hoseok’s mind blurs with how fast the omega spins to face him. Sleek hands are relacing themselves around his throat, resuming their previous position as they press him down for a sopping wet kiss. “Hoseok, Hoseok, please-” Jooheon gasps, pushing the few words he can extract from his heat-laden mind into the burning air between them with every desperate kiss.

“No, Jooheon-” the alpha replies even as he fervently kisses back, worrying Jooheon’s cushiony bottom lip between his teeth. “Not now,” he pleads, promise jumping eagerly on the tip of his tongue. A whimper winds its way through his mouth, and Hoseok weakly whines back, “I can’t bite you in the shower-” deliriously wondering who he’s even trying to convince at this point.

Jooheon only pulls harder, dragging Hoseok down to him as if he were trying to swallow him whole. The omega in him is filled with hasty demands - if there isn’t a bite adorning his neck anytime soon then he might as well settle for the next best thing. He grinds fluidly up against Hoseok’s more-than-adequate length, determined to have the older man’s knot swelling within him before all the hot water runs out.

The alpha in Hoseok hungrily replies with a bruising grip over Jooheon’s thigh, digging his fingers into soft flesh even as the inevitable slip of soap causes him to falter. The omega hikes himself up around a lean torso, driving the bend of his knees around a trim waist and into the elder’s glistening back. The flat hardness of the tiled wall pushes back, unforgiving, but Jooheon only scrapes his nails across Hoseok’s shoulders, insistent that the alpha come as close as possible.

Hoseok drops one hand from Jooheon’s shuddering thigh to shakily line himself up with the younger’s readily twitching hole. This time, when he slides in, the drag is practically nonexistent as he seats himself within the pounding furnace of Jooheon’s insides with one smooth slick motion. Their breaths hitch at the strange new sensation, at the lack of friction, at only the feverish slip of one body against another.

Neither of them can last long as Hoseok begins a rough jolting pace that has Jooheon’s skull banging repeatedly back against the hard tile and his tailbone slamming at a numbing angle over the mounted wall handle. There’s water blinking rapidly across the fan of Hoseok’s tangled lashes, soap running over the edges of his mouth, and at this point, the shampoo might as well have melded itself into the liquid makeup of his eye. The stinging has faded into an aching numbness, and he disregards the slight pain for the dazed, droopy look of pleasure on Jooheon’s face.

The steam of the shower does nothing to help with Hoseok’s blurred vision, and he can only lean forward, mouthing carelessly across the omega’s brow as he prompts with a dry whisper: “good?” Jooheon responds with a pleading sigh that hazily resembles the two syllables of his name, and Hoseok’s hips are snapping upward with more force than he had ever thought himself capable of possessing.

It drives straight into that special spot deep within the omega’s fluttering heat, and Jooheon comes with a wordless shout, biting harshly into a firm shoulder as pleasure runs him through on a knife’s edge, bordering right on the pain of oversensitivity. Hoseok crowds his knot into the younger’s clenching hole on pure instinct, already reaching his own release with a weak shuddering groan.

They both pause, one standing, the other contorted uncomfortably against the wall, as the shower’s meager spray continues to dot over their cooling skin, now at a much more lukewarm temperature. Hoseok sighs, coming back to himself, as he realizes just how long they’ll be stuck in this compromising position now. At least Jooheon is lucid enough to glance up at him with a flushed pout of shy regret. He whines, still heat-mute, and Hoseok’s internal organs all melt pathetically at the darling sound. No words, but he takes it as an apology and runs a wet kiss over the other’s shampoo-slick brow.

Now, he considers, awkwardly leaning over and cranking down the rusty shower handle, just to wait for biology to calm down and allow them to finally finish cleaning. Jooheon nuzzles sagely in agreement against the crook of his collarbones.

 

~

 

The twin light bulbs dangling down from the kitchen ceiling cast dark strobing shadows across the floor, painting the illusion of jagged puzzle pieces being jammed together from the uneven placement of all the misplaced kitchen supplies. Jooheon follows the flickering glow with a drooping tilt of his head, eyelashes sticking glossily against his cheek with each syrupy dragging blink. The foggy outline of a butterfly flitters through his mind and across the round bell of the bulb, and Jooheon flaps a sweater sleeve weakly at its teasing shadow.

“Is it a bug?” The omega glances away, the flap of wings already fading back through the corner of his eye as a tender knuckle rasps over the edge of his dry, soap-free cheek. He coos distractedly into the bent crook of a calloused thumb, all wonderings of bugs and butterflies melting into the intangible silk of thoughts, forgotten under the blanket of a familiar touch.

Hoseok laughs openly, cupping his entire palm over Jooheon’s chin as he leans down for a cloying, open-mouthed kiss. A breathy gasp ghosts past his lips, and the broken yellow light encases them in a flickering bubble separate from the howling winter, from the raging heat, and Hoseok bathes in it all, inhaling the simple clean scent of his mate as they share a brief moment of quiet together.

Bodily needs unfortunately overcome the standstill peace, and the glimmering bubble pops with a twisting rumble of their stomachs. Hoseok laughs again, a hint of pink creeping from his mouth up to his cheeks as he steps away from Jooheon’s pursed lips with a lingering caress through the back of the younger’s damp hair. He steadfastly keeps his back to the whine that immediately calls for him to come back, choosing to rummage through their cupboard for a dusty pink, rabbit-patterned apron instead.

Eventually, he finds it jammed in the back of the third drawer on the right side of the oven, and he digs his bare arm through junk and clutter to fish it out through a tangle of sawdust and spiderwebs. It fits just barely over the plane of his stomach, cutting off completely right below his naked chest, and Hoseok scoffs internally, knowing exactly what kind of scene he’s painting with this kind of look. If the box-eyed cartoon rabbit on the front pocket had been replaced with a monogrammed “kiss the cook” caption, well - Hoseok’s seen enough illicit online videos to guess what would happen next.

He turns, meeting Jooheon’s curious gaze with an exaggerated puff of his pecs, and the omega’s lips stretch impossibly wide, dimples on show for the barest of seconds before he dips them into the white edge of a knitted turtleneck Hoseok had hastily pulled over him after their shower. The spastic lighting settles into an amber sheen that threads his eye to the soft fabric of Jooheon’s pale thigh, curled loose and bare against the hardwood stool. Some small part of him reconsiders whether or not he should’ve made the omega slip on at least a pair of boxers, but then another louder much more adamant voice insists that it would only be soaked in unmentionable fluids later. There’s already a heaping load of post-heat laundry piling up, no need to add more to it right?

Right, Hoseok decides firmly, ducking into the cool mouth of their fridge as he scans over the smattering of snack foods, organic produce, and miscellaneous sauces and drinks, attempting to piece together an edible recipe from his limited resources. In the end, he settles on a meager pan of fried rice from a saran-wrapped bowl of leftover rice, frozen peas, and two shriveled rust-brown carrots. His health-nut diet can take a break this week (and maybe Christmas, New Year’s, and oh, definitely Jooheon’s birthday too). He’s burning calories at a breakneck speed at every hour of every day - some processed oil and oversalted vegetables couldn’t kill him.

The rice is burnt black on its brittle fringes, the carrots have dried up even more under the pressure of fire and sizzling oil, and the peas look more grey than green - but Jooheon’s slim eyes only widen, lips curling at the prospect of fresh food, and he’s shoveling a spoonful of shoddy fried rice into his mouth with more fervor than anyone should possibly possess when faced with the abomination of Hoseok’s cooking. And yet, the younger man continues speeding his way through his plate, prompting Hoseok to begin choking down his own portion with much less enthusiasm.

Nevertheless, he eats, watching his mate with a blatant smile pulled across his face the entire time.

 

~

 

Hoseok settles onto the exhausted mattress, pulling _clean_ blankets over Jooheon’s prone dozing figure as he stretches an aching arm over to click off the light. The world is plunged into darkness again, save for the blinking red numbers of their bedside clock, but Hoseok can only feel his eyelids droop with comforting drowsiness at the familiar (lack of) sight.

The promise of warmth rises slow and steady in the crook of his arm, an easy reminder of what was past, of what is present, and what will surely be there in the coming future. Hoseok’s sappy romantic heart shakes like a shedding autumn tree at the idea of an infinite number of heats to come, of uncountable nights like this shared in solitude - just the two of them, _Jooheon and Hoseok_ , tucked away from the wide bubble of the bustling world.

He allows his mind to wander, dreamless, content with only the faint breath of smooth lips winding around his throat in a snug mark of comfortable belonging.  

 

~

 

Hoseok’s lost consciousness floats, fading in and out of a gray opaque space filled with indistinguishable murmurings, and the blaring shock of midnight suddenly greets him with blatant red numbers blinking from the bedside stand. He squints blearily through the fugue of half-present dreams and again, wonders what he’s doing awake before the sun and the sky.

An unexpected sensation creeps over his lower half, and Hoseok spooks, kneeing frantically into the sudden suffocating tangle of blankets, rushing to the blurry conclusion that the monster from childhood past has finally found him in his adult life 24 years later. The “monster” squeaks hotly, its breath ghosting with delicate fingertips over his crotch and _oh_ \- it’s not a monster, is it. A cackle spears through his mind, and Hoseok groans, hating the fact that his inner demon has already instantly latched onto it with the promise of never forgetting.

Some adult he is, the alpha fumes, flinging back the blankets with an attempted expression at stoicism to reveal exactly the opposite of what his clouded mind had assumed to be the bushy-tailed, green-eyed monster bear from hell. Instead, it’s a set of glimmering heat-hazed pupils that rove deftly across his own and a pair of cherry-red lips, shining with unspoken lust and want as they mouth firmly around the outline of his sweatpant-covered cock.

Multiple plans of action pull up in a clinical sequence through Hoseok’s buzzing brain. Plan A entails shrieking and choking simultaneously as he hauls Jooheon’s innocent mouth up and off of Hoseok junior. Plan B details forgetting all propriety and pride and instantly coming with the barest of provocations like an eager young alpha again. Plan C tells him to say ‘fuck it all’ and roll right back around to sleep because at this point popping another knot would take an insurmountable amount energy he just can not physically muster at the moment.

A whine skillfully distracts him from the multitude of perfectly sequenced plans, and the plaintive scrutiny of his mate’s awaiting stare abruptly kicks every single idea out through the front door of his cranium. He threads a tremoring hand through the short scruff at the back of tilted head, and decides defeatedly on Plan 0, the original one where he does everything to make heat that much more bearable for Jooheon.

Even if that means allowing himself to be sucked dry of all his will to have sex for the next three months. If this one week of popping multiple knots for 7 painful days will make Jooheon coo contentedly in his sleep, then Hoseok will gladly sacrifice every drop of his sexual vitality for the sake of a single sound of vague approval.

He’s not a hopeless romantic for nothing if he can at least adequately care for his mate - and caring for others has always been something he’s desperately good at.

Jooheon messily swallows him down in one deep stretch, and Hoseok decides, surely, that this fits under the category of “taking care of others.” The wet heat around his cock offers its garbled assent, and the alpha forcibly allows his eyes to close in a light shuddering rhythm as he attempts to relax.  

It works as well as aiming to cross a river dry without a bridge or a boat, but Hoseok adamantly keeps his lids scrunched together. After all, there’s a long week of pleasure and torture waiting just up ahead for him and his poor knot.

 

(Still, he’s readily willing to suffer)

 

~

 

 _How many days_ , Hoseok thinks, wonders, perhaps even  _dreams_ , as he yawns his head back, exhaustingly taking in the dazed view of Jooheon spread across his lap, fingers dug into his chest, thighs taut against his own.

How many days has it been since the beginning of this cycle, since Jooheon could look him in the eye with a lucid calm and speak to him in intelligible phrases unbroken by pitched moans and needy whines. They’ve been fucking for what seems like eons of ongoing millenniums, only ever occasionally interrupted by Hoseok’s flashing moments of sudden awareness for the necessary demands of cleanliness, meals, and hydration. Otherwise, it’s just wake up, fuck until they’re two heaps of shivering, inconsolable, sweaty messes collapsed on top of one another, blackout - and repeat, repeat, repeat.

Jooheon rolls his hips wickedly, pushing actively against Hoseok’s hard stomach as he tilts the length of his slick throat up through the glow of dimming daylight, expectantly demanding that the empty curve around his waist to be filled soon with heavy warmth. Hoseok breathes in, exhausted, but he obeys, slotting his fingers into the exact bruising imprints on Jooheon’s skin. A satisfied gasp grasps his heart in an unshakable grip, and he instinctively pulls the omega down with one final broken upwards thrust.

The younger man’s head snaps back as what hair that isn’t plastered in black streaks across his forehead arcs through the air like a wild smear of painter’s rash brushstroke. The moon becomes the naked lustrous gleam on his frozen body, the sun the burning red light of his rounded lips, dropping open in a gasping sphere of completion. Hoseok drinks in the sight, drooped and drained of everything, trapped between the bed and Jooheon’s heaving greedy body as his very essence is milked dry through his spluttering cock, drop by exhausting drop.

Somehow his knot emerges, fully swollen and nudging with a lagging tiresome interest against the inflamed rim of Jooheon’s stretched hole. The omega takes him in with measured yelps of distress, and Hoseok digs up the last-ditch reserves of his energy to push in with one final sucking _pop_.

With the knot in, the fever of heat momentarily subsides, satisfied to coil back down in its nest at the bottom of the omega’s filled stomach, watching with one slitted dozing eye as it waits for the next frenzied round to begin. The younger man collapses over the elder’s body in a languid blanket of clamoring flesh, and instinct eases, omega and alpha are forgotten, as they simply become Jooheon and Hoseok, asleep and embedded within the simple comfort of each other’s embrace.

 

~

 

This is the lightning before the storm, the grey rumbling of Zeus’s wrath before the Nephelae’s soft green spring showers. This is the beginning of the end.

Hoseok feels it, _recognizes_ it streaming deep through the marrow of his bones and into the pulsing pound of instinct at the back of his worn brain. His teeth gnash violently against one another, and he forcibly buries his face into the sweet, sweat-soaked curve of Jooheon’s neck, nosing boldly against supple skin as a reminder - a _warning_ \- echoes silently through him.  

The younger man moans, suppliant and molded beneath Hoseok’s rolling hips, the same mindless sense of urgency and emerging lucidity finally parting the spider-silk haze laid before his eyes. There are only two things that can break the frenzy of heat: the passage of time and an alpha’s bite. The omega instinct in him writhes, sensing that its burning reign of biology and instinct is finally coming to a well-deserved end. Jooheon arches upwards, frantically meeting Hoseok’s chest as he searches for the piece, the key, even the lock that will tamp down the roaring emptiness forever eating through his core and release him from this cage of unsightly lust.

Hoseok opens his mouth, shuddering as even the scrape of skin against a bony canine draws up something dark and unbidden from the depths of his gut. Blood makes him swoon with the disposition akin to a virginal Victorian era mistress, and every horror movie’s gory kill scenes have forced him to muffle his gags of disgust into buttery bags of popcorn.

And yet memories, imaginings, half-dazed wonderings emerge - of Jooheon’s neck arching like the creamy lip of an orchid petal, flawless in every stretching inch of skin, except for a crater catastrophe of a bite etched into its curved side, crimson dribbling over speckled blueberry-purple and spreading past tiny shadowed outlines like an artist’s painting stepping entirely through its self-imposed frame. Hoseok, in all his hippie, California-esque pilates and celery smoothies kind of pacifism, can’t stop his jaw from going inordinately still at the spit-pooling, gum-aching inducing thought of it.

A mark, a visceral symbol of _possession_ , and even he can’t deny just how deep down he wants it.

This time, the knot slides in without any painful catches or panicked desperate fumbling. Electric sparking friction is transformed into the smooth perfect slip of skin past skin, and Hoseok seats himself right into the center of a humid sauna, fully comfortable in its melting watery temperature. For the first time, pleasure coils through him on a breathy puff of steam, soaking him inside and out in a sheen of heat and calm. Jooheon hums something indistinct into his ear, stroking slight fingers across the back of his neck as they push, delicate and demanding, for Hoseok to leave his mark both within and without.

Keen canines break the membrane of skin, and the world disappears before his eyes in a soundless supernova of white.

 

.

 

When Jooheon finally stirs, still blinking away dying stars and the painful edges of dynamic prismatic galaxies, there’s an achingly warm drag of something rough and familiar over his sore bruised backside. He perks up questioningly on his elbows and immediately flops back down when a gentle palm presses playfully into the dip of his throbbing spine. A finger drags, teasingly there, over the inner crease of his ass, and Jooheon muffles a ticklish smile into the wrinkled bed sheets.

“Don’t tell me you’re still up for another round?” he murmurs candidly, and the mild touch hastily retracts itself with a sharp intake of breath.  

“Nah,” Hoseok replies shakily, faking at nonchalance as he runs a spare washcloth over the most intimate of places. “I think I’m good for at least another month or so.”

Another laugh unfurls through the fading afternoon light, rasping like knitted woolen sleeves across his skin, and he digs the towel indignantly against the stained line of Jooheon’s inner thigh. The omega’s chuckle hitches into a breathy whisper, and Hoseok pauses in his meticulous cleaning to look into the autumn-orange color of the drowning sunset as Jooheon meets his gaze from his place propped up against the pillow. He sends back a short, eye-crinkling smile, and smacks lightly at a plump asscheek before continuing on with his work.  

The silence stretches before them, holding them still in the comfortable impression of seeking bird calls, whirring telephone lines, and the cottony murmur of Hoseok’s damp washcloth over clammy skin. Jooheon begins humming the trail end of some popular girl group song he had heard on the radio, and it melts into the easy atmosphere between them like a spoon of milk into a swirling caramel latte.

Hoseok finishes wiping up the last traces of dried slick and tosses the cloth aside, far away from his mate’s freshly cleaned skin. He sits down with a heaving _creak_ onto the bed and commits the scene before to him to memory. The washed out watercolor sunlight, the plump rawness of peach pink over pale skin, the barely-there whistling of inquisitive birdsong - Jooheon’s quiet stare trained so lucidly on his own - Hoseok breathes it in and swallows it whole, locking it away with a subtle _click_ inside the depths of his pounding heart.

“We made it, huh?” he whispers, wonderous, so hushed anyone passing by might’ve thought he was only talking to himself. Jooheon looks up though, eyelashes catching flecks of gold and amber dust as a reverent hand weaves itself through his mussed hair.

“Another one under the belt,” Hoseok comments, this time steadier as he directly addresses the younger’s gilded stare, brushing a thumb impulsively across the fluttering shadow under Jooheon’s eye. The omega simply smiles and leans over to press his lips into the curve of Hoseok’s outstretched palm.

“You’re good to me.” He grins again, the expression so soft and content on his dimpled cheeks that Hoseok immediately cradles his hand around it, holding it tight to preserve it forever under the shield of his touch. Jooheon stretches upwards, chin held high in the air in an unspoken plea for a kiss. Hoseok willingly meets him halfway, face dipping like the hopeless monkey who could only worship his moon foolishly from the ripples of a lonesome midnight pond.

“There’s no else who could care for me like you do,” Jooheon sighs right as their lips trace the invisible line of intimacy, melding in a brilliant spark of finely tuned attraction against one another.

Hoseok, for once, allows his stupid, egotistical, possessive alpha pride to swell in a helium-high bubble against the cage of his chest. Maybe it’s unnecessary otherwise, but with Jooheon pressed tight and sweet over his mouth, his lips outlining around Hoseok’s own, cotton-candy words wisping into liquid sugar across his tongue, the praise might be well-deserved after all.

In the end, he is, and always will be, a bit of a hopeless romantic.

(Jooheon exhales, light and airy, lovestruck in the same way as he fits himself just so into Hoseok’s embrace)

**Author's Note:**

> title from "heartsigh" by purity ring. also i totally stole a line from the great gatsby, i'm sorry fitzgerald.
> 
> thank you for reading! please tell me how it was - any and all feedback is always always appreciated!!!
> 
> hit me up: [*](https://happycakestories.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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